ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2) Page 8

  ‘That’s no bad.’

  ‘Fights to the death.’

  I stared. ‘A wee extreme.’

  ‘Invitations to orgies.’ A stupid male grin creased his cheeks.

  Gobsmacked, I stared more. Shook myself. ‘I’m no worried. Neither should you be. He’s a big lad. He’ll turn the, uh, orgies down if needs be.’

  ‘Turn them down.’

  ‘If somebody wants to have a romantic relationship with him, he’ll go for it if he reciprocates.’ My mouth downturned. ‘I hope he does. After the problems he’s had in the past, he doesn’t bother. He gets his heart broken over and over because he is no interested in sex. You’d be surprised how many people can no handle that.’

  Beowyn palmed his bulge. ‘I need physical attention.’

  I tore my eyes away and dabbed the back of my hand over my mouth. Christ, was I drooling? ‘So do I.’ I snorted a laugh. I’d surprised myself. I’d spent years persuading my body I needed nothing more than a hard neck massage once a fortnight. I sobered thinking about my older cousin and the adversity he faced. ‘That’s how we are. Rowan’s orientation doesn't mean he can no love or want kisses and hugs. Affection. It doesn’t mean he does no want somebody for his own or get jealous and possessive.’

  Beowyn pushed the drawer he’d riffled through closed. ‘Worry not. I respect the ways of your kin.’

  ‘It’s important my family are happy. They mean the world to me.’ I tucked my hair behind my ear. ‘I’d like them to mean something to you too.’

  ‘I will crush the bones of those who belittle them.’

  ‘Oh, um, thanks?’

  Chest puffing, he sauntered over.

  It should have been ridiculous. This seven-foot alien King dressed in armour, sword latched to his back, expression smug and dark hair floating as he walked. It wasn’t. He was seven-foot alien King dressed in armour with a sword latched to his back and his dark hair floated on the goddamn wind. A miracle as we were in my cramped bedroom. He generated his hair fluttering breeze like some action hero with a wind machine.

  The bedroom shrunk to the size of a shoebox.

  ‘I profess myself glad you do not share his…. What do you say? Orreeantaasheeon.’ He leant in all buff muscles and smouldering eyes.

  I leant back all sweaty-faced and bewildered staring.

  Beowyn crowded me until our lower bodies touched. ‘There is much I wish to explore with you. On you. Inside you.’ Then he just kept on coming.

  I slid off the suitcase onto the duvet.

  He followed.

  ‘W-What are you doing?’

  He crawled until I lay flat on my back, him crouched above, massive arms either side of my head. ‘I was going to tell you what I wanted.’ Pleasure rumbled from his chest and into my breasts. He pressed me into the mattress. Narrow hips moved to settle snug in the cradle of mine. I froze. Hardness at his groin bumped the heat between my thighs. ‘This is better.’ His face hovered over mine. ‘Far better.’ Firm lips looked warm and dry with masculine ridges that smoothed as he spoke.

  Watching his mouth, I licked my lips. His eyelids drooped. My stomach flipped, and my pelvic floor clenched.

  Despite my protestations and arguments against leaving Earth, I’d come to the realisation when I’d run from Weedsmuir; I’d wanted Beowyn to follow me. Beneath the fear had been excitement. The discomfort and nerves I’d felt when he’d caught me had been a heightened state of arousal. My baser instincts thought the chase was sexy, and the best thing; the scary thing?

  He smiled, wicked and all teeth. ‘May I kiss you?’

  So did he.

  ‘I’m surprised.’

  His hips bucked. ‘It is rather large.’

  ‘That you asked to kiss me.’

  His head cocked. ‘I have not before.’

  ‘Then why did you with me? What’s wrong with me?’

  ‘Are fallen stars not special?’ His tone deepened, vibrating through skin. ‘She who is mine.’

  ‘Possessive of you.’

  ‘You like it.’

  My mouth parted on a shiver. I made a noise at the base of my throat.

  Metallic eyes darkening, his mouth thinned to a line. ‘But you hide from me.’ His tone remained even.

  Did he refer to me running away? ‘I thought you liked that?’

  ‘Our chase is a fine thing. I speak of here.’ His claw traced a shape over my heart. It stopped before the swell of my breast. ‘You hide from me.’

  ‘I don’t feel safe.’

  He jerked. ‘Never would I hurt you.’

  ‘That’s no what I meant.’

  Explaining it would make me vulnerable. I wasn’t ready.

  I am eighteen years old. Liam is behind me, an arm slung around my neck, laughing lips pressed to the back of my head. ‘God, you make me laugh, babe.’ He squeezes me closer. The setting sun warm and golden on our skin. The sea air ruffles my curls and carries brackish-salt-spritz that moistens my cheeks. ‘I’m so happy you’re mine.’ I’m happy too. So happy that night when he pushes, I let him take me bare. He stares into my eyes. I think everything is wonderful because he is in my life, and he’d never let me down.

  I suck in a breath, turning from Beowyn’s piercing stare.

  ‘It’s no you. I do no think you’ll hurt me on purpose.’ I struggled to vocalise the turbulent emotions blocking what I wanted to build with him. Longings I ached to fulfil. ‘Things happened to me. I no longer trust easily.’

  ‘I am taking you home. You trust me enough for that.’

  ‘No enough to give my heart. No so soon.’ My shoulders climbed to my ears.

  He rest his gaze on my teeth gnawing my lip, the freckles dotting my nose, the mess of my hair. ‘It does not seem fair.’ His eyes flicked to mine, dull with wariness. ‘I offer all I am.’

  ‘I thank you for that, but that’s your choice. Mine is to go slow.’ My palms sweated. Our wants were already in opposition. ‘I need time. I will no lie or pretend I don’t have doubts.’ I wasn’t going to fall at his feet ripe for taking. I needed to feel confident he wouldn’t trample me in his desire to have me. I was his wife, and while I might not be equal in status, I refused to rush any intimacies. It was the right moment to make myself clear. We hadn’t left Earth yet. If he wanted to change his mind instead of being patient, he could, and I wouldn’t hold it against him. He was a powerful, dominant presence. If didn’t assert myself now I never would.

  ‘I see.’ His lips twitched. ‘No matter, my sweet.’ Arm disappearing from sight, he lifted his hips and did something at his waist. ‘Though your hesitation wounds me, I will wait.’ His hand reappeared. Dangling from his giant fist were the panties he stole. He sniffed them. ‘I have these to pass the time.’

  Squawking, I grabbed for it. ‘Give those back.’

  ‘I hear no offer of payment.’

  ‘You have got to be kidding me.’

  ‘That mouth of yours might persuade me to give them up.’ He smiled invitingly, shifting his hips.

  ‘I might be persuaded to use my tongue and not my teeth.’

  The panties dropped onto my face.

  ‘Your sharp tongue suits me well.’ Head darting down, he snagged the lace with his teeth, growling and tugging as I tried to hide them away.

  Grunting, my legs came up around his hips. I bucked, trying to escape with his spoils and laughed when he pouted.

  That was the moment Patrick ambled past. ‘Lass, you taking–Och.’

  Rowan popped his head around the doorjamb. He cackled. ‘That did no take long.’

  Chapter 5

  Watching the luminous purple and red nebula retreat into the distance, I thunked my head against the wall of the spaceship taking me to Vayhalun.

  Remembering Beowyn’s weight bearing down me, his sultry grin, his alluring aura, I conceded I’d already sunk too deep, the frigid waters were closing in over my head.

  I went to smack my forehead again, but a palm eased between me and metal. Éor
ik’s expression was gloomy, eyes vivid. ‘Your joy moves me.’

  At least the Verak had a sense of humour. ‘You would think it’d be hard to leave everything behind, but no. A couple of spaceship rides, and we’re gone. The family I have are with me, so there’s no one to miss us. One dropped shift, the manager at Charlie’s will send me a letter of termination. I’ll be served an eviction note then new tenants will replace Fergie and I at the flat. Will the police will file a missing persons report if no one cares to report we’re gone?’ I shook my head, mouth turning down. ‘It’s scary how easily people can disappear.’ I rubbed my goose pimpled flesh. ‘Scary how I’ve put my trust in someone I barely know.’

  Unsaid was how frightening the depth of intimacy I’d agreed to was. I didn’t regret my decision, but I was intimidated by it.

  Éorik clasped his hands behind his back. ‘Is the thought of bedding the most eligible male in countless galaxies so repugnant to you?’

  ‘I forgot it’s all sex with you lot.’ I turned from the intimidating male to the lonely sight of deep space. ‘Is there something you’re wanting?’

  He scanned the view outside the airy observation pod in a brisk sweep, a star-strewn vista commonplace to him. ‘You should be sleeping.’

  ‘Why are you skulking about?’

  ‘I am the pilot.’ His voice was dry. ‘Someone must keep this vessel on course while the Great One woos you.’

  ‘That name irritates me.’

  ‘Lah, such is the nature of truth.’

  ‘He can no be that great.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘I’ve spent time with him.’ I rubbed the bump behind my ear, a sub-dermal translation implant beneath the skin. ‘No one in their sane mind is that carefree and happy.’

  He propped a shoulder against the hoary bulkhead, ankles and arms crossing. ‘Interesting how you see him.’

  ‘Are you suggesting there’s more to him than meets the eye?’ I pushed a hand into my curls. ‘That I need to stick this out and everything will be fine? That I have no made a impulsive mistake, and put the lives of everyone I love in jeopardy?’

  ‘Beowyn ThunderClaw is as he seems. You do not understand the fulness of what you do see. As for your mistake to join us? It was never yours to make.’

  ‘I made the choice to come.’

  ‘Owyn chose. He would have taken you agreeable or not.’

  I turned to find a new moping spot, fighting bewilderment.

  The Verak were outside my limited realm of experience. Understanding them was an effort at futility.

  To the outsider, Éorik acted subservient to Beowyn, but being brought inside their dynamic, I witnessed interludes where the balance of power reversed. The Commander spoke of him with awe and reverence one moment then intimate certainty the next. I suspected lust formed the energy flowing around me and between them, but it was a mystery divergent.

  Claws wrapped around my arm.

  Head twisting, I looked to the towering male who stood close.

  My brow arched, my heart thundered.

  Éorik’s impassive face morphed, chilling in its intensity. ‘If you dislike him why come?’

  ‘According to you, I didn’t have a choice. What does it matter now? Why does it matter to you?’

  ‘It is he that matters to me.’

  I thought about saying something nasty, but unvarnished truth flew from my lips. ‘I wanted a better life for my daughter.’

  ‘You seek to abuse his generosity.’

  ‘Everybody uses someone at some point in their life,’ I closed my eyes, ‘but Beowyn and I do have moments.’ The truth would set me free in more ways than one. ‘Surprising moments. He’ll do or say something that makes me think how perfect it’d be if he lives up to everything he promised.’ What if I didn’t? What if I ruined the relationship? ‘Am I using him? Aye. For what I believe to be the best of reasons with the best of intentions. I mean to be a good wife and mother to his…our cubs.’ Blowing out a breath, I met the hot gaze flaying my skin. ‘Isn’t true he’s using me too?’

  Distaste eased from his features. ‘This is a strange way to look at a life mate. Using each other. As if your human love is a burden or bears cost.’ He hesitated then canted his horns. ‘Betrayal formed this belief.’

  I ground my molars. ‘Who has been running their mouth then?’

  ‘Aled meant no ill will. He has great affection for you.’

  ‘I know that. He still should no blab my business about.’ Hypocritical, yes, I’d done the same thing to Rowan with Beowyn, but at least I’d come clean as soon as I possibly could so nobody could catch him off guard.

  Éorik’s pupils danced, liquid gold compared to the hammered bronze of before. His fingers around my arm flexed, claws scraping. I became aware of the breadth of his shoulders as he breathed. White-furred skin revealed by his collar let off a rich, woodsy scent.

  We stared into each other’s eyes.

  Neither of us moved, and the longer we remained, the more difficult it seemed to part.

  Unbidden, my mind reminded me of Beowyn’s promise to house my concubines. He’d take lovers as well. Was it a flagrant insult to what I knew as the institution of marriage? Perhaps my instinctive, negative association at the notion was a product of my religious upbringing and disappointing past relationship. I’d been damaged by a philanderer. My knee-jerk reaction to dislike their sexual practices wasn’t logical, was it? Especially as I had no emotional attachment to my husband aside from a growing respect and shallow, physical attraction.

  Standing close to Éorik, sexual awareness snapping between us, the concept of casual lovers seemed more real and comforting than the everlasting devotion Beowyn promised to fulfil.

  I fidgeted under his stare. ‘Do you have many lovers?’ Mortified my mouth opened for that stupidity fall out, my head tried to disappear into my neck.

  ‘My harem is enough. I partake in love play when offered but keep no lovers. It makes favourites jealous.’ His head tilted. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Have many lovers?’

  ‘Offer play?’

  Air solidified in my throat.

  Heat climbed my neck as I risked escape. ‘Beowyn.’

  His grip tightened. ‘Wrong male.’

  ‘He is your King.’

  Considering his culture, why I fathomed the reminder would deter him, I don’t know.

  Éorik’s gaze flicked to the side. Upon its return it was dark with amusement. ‘As you are my Queen.’

  ‘You proposition what’s his.’

  ‘You belong to yourself. If you wish to share yourself with me that is your decision, and yours alone.’

  ‘Do you no feel bad? Guilty?’

  ‘Beowyn wishes to bed you, but he also grows to love you in your human way. I want inside you.’ His barbed tongue dabbed his bottom lip. ‘I will bed you should you wish it.’

  I put more force into twisting my wrist, a demand to be released.

  Smirking, he let go.

  I inhaled my first full breath since he’d touched me. It was like escaping dark, deep water to air. A rush of disappointment he’d ended our confrontation mingled with relief.

  Until he took an aggressive step.

  I backed against the cold wall, a hand shooting out to press his middle. My fingers chafed against the textured bumps and crevices of moulded armour.

  Fists lifting to rest on the bulkhead, stretching a lean abdomen to cage me in heat, and scent, his dark-skinned face lowered. Long hair smelling of peppery spice curtained us from the outside world. Warrior braids hanging from his temples brushed my shoulders, silken ropes snaking over my arms. My fingers twitched, weaving in-between loose strands, rougher than expected.

  Puffs of air beat against my throat. ‘To take what I want of you would be dishonourable.’

  ‘You assume I will no give.’

  Closed lips rubbed against the heated skin of my neck. Skeins of moonstone kissed the furthermost tips of my breasts. ‘Should you come to me, I will not turn you a
way.’

  My breaths came shallow and thin. ‘Beowyn.’ I spoke the name as if it were a sacred talisman. Rather than discharge the tension it fanned the flames. Our gazes merged and burned as we imagined him between us.

  ‘It is not our way to be jealous.’ Words from his mouth buzzed against mine. ‘Remember,’ a phantom-light kiss, ‘I will not turn you away.’

  He straightened, and the observation platform snapped into focus with a rush of cold brightness. Éorik inclined his head. He stalked through the hatch. It swirled closed with a swoosh.

  Trembles chased tremors down my spine. I curled my flatted palm into a fist to pull it into my middle, marking the ache there. The drone of the spaceship engines ground against my eardrums. My skin felt sensitised to the recycled air, the metal wall at my back.

  I minced the crescent-shaped corridors to my room using the polished inner hull for support, and thankfully without chancing upon relatives who’d question my shaky composure.

  My cabin was decorated in the cool palette of a nordic sky. Stark white walls acted as a backdrop to the clean lines of blue wood furniture. A cubed wall unevenly split the oval room into a living space and a sleeping platform. The partition housed the cleaning facilities on one side and a compact galley kitchen on the other.

  I hit the liquids dispenser. I tossed back a double measure of the pungent, sour alcohol the Veraks preferred.

  Heat blazed down my gullet. It hit my stomach, and a peaceful lassitude seeped into my limbs.

  Wheezing fumes, I debated a second shot. I rubbed my legs together and felt the telltale liquid glide on my inner thighs. The heel of my hand came to rest of my lower stomach.

  I pressed, groaning, battling the urge to touch myself.

  Stripping, I entered the cleansing unit. I let particle jets and streams of vapour wash away the last of the tension squatting between my shoulder blades.

  Plasma gurgled down the vents. I stood, numbed, watching translucent gas streaked with bluish sediment I guessed was soap trickle down my shins as suds then slide off my wriggling toes.

  Warmth blasted from the silver bar at waist length. It tilted on an axis, sweeping airstreams across my damp flesh to dry me.